Secrets of Cavendon

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I understand, Mam,” Cecily replied in a quiet voice. “I will be here waiting for you and my father. Just come, so we can be together, comfort each other. Miles has told the staff. He’s with Harry now.”

  After hanging up, Cecily went down to Eric’s office just a few steps away from the kitchen. He looked up as she knocked and walked in, straightened in the chair, and stood at once.

  “Are you all right, Eric?” Cecily asked. He was a Swann, her cousin. She went and sat down in the chair near his desk. “This has been a very difficult morning for you.”

  “For us all, your ladyship. She was my favorite aunt, and she was always so good to me when I was a boy.” He swallowed hard, and added, “It’s the suddenness of it, the shock. It knocks you flat. She’ll be missed around here, I can tell you that.”

  “I know.” There was a moment’s pause and Cecily stared at him intently. “We Swanns must always hold together, stand firm together, and be courageous.”

  “I know. We do. We are.”

  “We’ve been through a lot together, you and I, Eric, and we’ve always pulled through.”

  He nodded knowingly, and said, “I’ve told Percy, and he’s passed the word around the three villages. There will be a big turnout. His lordship will have to use the church down in Little Skell. It’ll be a morning funeral, that’s the Ingham tradition. Can we do a wake for the villagers in the church hall? That’s the tradition, too.”

  “I’ll ask Miles, and I’m sure he’ll agree to the wake. My mother will have the Women’s Institute members make the food.”

  “Will we have any overnight guests, m’lady?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I came to see you, Eric. To my knowledge about four guests. Mr. and Mrs. Lambert, and Mrs. Chalmers and her sister. But that’s just a guess on my part. I’ll know more later. We’ll serve a light lunch here for our guests and the family.”

  Tears suddenly welled up and Cecily shook her head, looking bemused. “I can’t believe I’m planning this funeral with you. I just had tea with Aunt Charlotte yesterday. It doesn’t seem possible she’s gone.”

  * * *

  Cecily was crossing the great hall, going toward the library, when she saw Dr. Ottoway and his nurse walking down the main staircase.

  When he came to a standstill next to her, the doctor said, “I would like to see his lordship, Lady Mowbray. Would you be kind enough to take me to him?”

  “Of course,” she answered and glanced at the nurse.

  Dr. Ottoway said, “Could Mrs. Frayne wait here, please, your ladyship?”

  Cecily nodded, smiled at the nurse, and indicated a chair where she could sit.

  Leading the doctor into the library, Cecily hurried over to Miles, who was at his desk. “The doctor has seemingly finished his examination.”

  Miles nodded and stood, turned to the doctor. “Please, Dr. Ottoway, let’s go and sit over there near the fireplace.”

  The doctor said, “I believe your supposition about the dowager countess falling to be correct, Lord Mowbray. It is the only thing that could have happened.”

  “I understand,” Miles replied. “It was an unfortunate accident.”

  “Yes, it was. Two weeks ago the dowager countess came to see me for a general checkup. At that time she told me she sometimes felt dizzy, and she also complained of being a little unsteady on her feet, that her legs felt tired. I did examine her for vertigo at that time, but she didn’t have it. I think these minor symptoms had a lot to do with her age.”

  “I agree with you,” Miles said. “And yet she didn’t show her age in any other way. She was as mentally alert as I am and full of energy almost every day.”

  “I know that, Lord Mowbray,” the doctor replied. “Weakness of the legs and occasional dizziness can’t be detected by anyone else, other than a doctor, your lordship.”

  “I do want to thank you for coming so promptly, Dr. Ottoway. I am most appreciative, as is Lady Mowbray. We would like you to attend the funeral on Wednesday morning with your wife. If you can spare the time, of course.”

  “Mrs. Ottoway and I will be there, m’lord. And I want to offer you and her ladyship our most sincere condolences for your loss. I know how much you are going to miss the dowager countess, such a fine woman.”

  “Thank you,” Miles and Cecily said almost in unison.

  “I believe the dowager’s death to have been caused by a blow to the side of her head due to a fall. Accidental death. Here is the death certificate.”

  * * *

  Little Skell Church was filled to the rafters. Everyone from the village and nearby High Clough and Mowbray had assembled early.

  Alice Swann had invited Genevra and the entire Romany family to come, and they joined the other villagers at the back of the church.

  Intermingled in the front pews were the Inghams and the Swanns, along with the Jollions, who were now related by marriage through their niece Paloma, Harry Swann’s wife. Victoria sat next to Harry and on her other side was Christopher Longdon in his wheelchair in the aisle. He had met Aunt Charlotte several times, and they had become friends and so he had asked to come.

  Greta Chalmers, her sister, Elise Steinbrenner, Aunt Dottie Swann Pinkerton and her husband, Howard, occupied a pew on the other side of the main aisle. Seated with them were Felix and Constance Lambert and many members of the local aristocratic families.

  In the front row were Miles, Cecily, and their children, David, Walter, Venetia, and Gwen. She sat next to her aunt, Lady Diedre, Will, and her cousin Robin. Then came Charlie Ingham Stanton. His sister Alicia Ingham Stanton, the twins, Thomas and Andrew, and their youngest sibling, Annabel, filled out the row. Adam Fennell was sitting next to Annabel at the end.

  Adam was well put together as usual. Crisp white shirt. Black suit and tie. And he looked composed and in control. But the buzzing had started in his head. He felt he might be having one of his attacks that seemed to make him act in an erratic way. He hoped not.

  For a moment he was unaware of what was going on around him. This was because he could hear Jack Trotter’s voice at the back of his head, murmuring that he must be careful not to let his little fits take over … You must be strong, lad. Seize control of yourself. You’re clever. You can make it big … seize control …

  He would do that now. But he couldn’t understand why everyone was saying Aunt Charlotte had fallen. She hadn’t. He had pushed her. It wasn’t an accident. He had done it. He hadn’t wanted her to expose him. All his plans would evaporate if she did …

  Annabel was saying something to him.

  Taking a deep breath, focusing totally on Alicia’s sister, he pulled himself together. “Sorry, Annabel, I missed that.”

  “I was just explaining that I have to go. People are still coming in, but I have to go and play now.” She smiled, stepped out of the pew, went down to the piano to one side of the altar. Within moments she was playing a hymn he vaguely knew. It was called “Jerusalem.”

  Settling back against the wooden pew, Adam did as Jack said. He took control of himself. Glancing around, he was truly amazed to see so many people.

  And he had no idea that Lady Diedre had looked at him several times as they had entered the church; nor had he noticed the penetrating expression in her eyes.

  Diedre was nobody’s fool, and she instinctively understood Adam Fennell was not who everyone thought he was. There was someone else hiding behind the mask.

  * * *

  Cecily, her mother, Alice, and Alicia had decorated the church with flower arrangements. Harry had insisted on helping them because he and Charlotte had always been involved in the gardens of Cavendon and the indoor decorations for special occasions. What they had created was breathtaking; they had outdone themselves on the altar. The arrangements behind and around the coffin, and on top of it, were magnificent.

  Once everyone had settled down, Annabel stopped playing, and the vicar spoke for a few seconds.

  It was Miles who gave the eulogy; he touch
ed on different aspects of Charlotte’s life, and how vitally important she had been to all of them. But he knew that he should not go over his allotted time, for others had begged to speak.

  When Miles stepped down from the pulpit, it was Cecily’s father, Walter Swann, who spoke next. Charlotte had been his cousin and he spoke of her devoted family ties, how she cared for every Swann on the estate. Harry, Cecily’s brother, was the next Swann to stand up. After a touching remembrance of her, he told a few amusing stories about their gardening adventures, and there was laughter through the tears.

  When it was Charlie’s turn to speak, he did so in glowing terms about their matriarch. He then went on to explain that his mother, Lady Daphne, who had been very close to Aunt Charlotte, was so distressed by her unexpected death, she had become too ill to travel from Switzerland to Cavendon. He and his siblings were representing her and their father, Hugo Ingham Stanton.

  At Miles’s request, Charlie also mentioned that Lady Dulcie, her husband, Sir James, and their children were absent because they were in Los Angeles. They would not have been able to make it in time for the funeral.

  Finally, it was Cecily who went up to the pulpit. In her clear and loving voice, she spoke of Charlotte Swann as her mentor, the woman who had put her on the right road and had helped her to reach for, and catch, her dream. She then said she wanted to recite Aunt Charlotte’s favorite psalm before Annabel played her favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.” It was the Twenty-third Psalm, “The Lord Is My Shepherd.”

  As Miles looked up at his wife, listening to her lilting voice, he remembered that his sister Diedre had recited the same psalm at the funeral of Great-Aunt Gwendolyn during the war. Another great matriarch, he thought, and now it is my darling Cecily who must step into their shoes. And I know she will fill them, make them both proud.

  Thirty-eight

  Alicia felt bone tired, almost unable to move. She sat in a chair near the fire in her bedroom, still wearing her dressing gown, sipping a cup of lemon tea.

  She wondered if she was coming down with something, perhaps the flu, then realized that her exhaustion came from the events of the last few days.

  The funeral yesterday had been trying to the entire family. Grief-stricken and sorrowing though they all were, they had had to stand up, ramrod straight and looking pleasant, as they greeted their many guests and all those who had come to mourn Aunt Charlotte. Even entertaining their luncheon guests had proven to be a strain of sorts.

  A loud knocking on her bedroom door made her jump; startled, Alicia put down the cup of tea and rose. She was walking toward the door when it opened and Adam stalked in, looking grim.

  She stared at him, amazed to see that he was dressed in a navy blue suit, white shirt, and tie, and looked as if he were about to return to London.

  He gaped at her, obviously flabbergasted to see her in her dressing gown. “Why aren’t you ready?” he demanded in an annoyed voice. “I told you to be ready by eleven! And it’s already eleven-thirty. I’ve been waiting downstairs for half an hour.”

  “Please calm down and lower your voice. Please,” Alicia answered in a steady tone. She was not accustomed to being spoken to so harshly, but she did not want a violent altercation to erupt.

  Glaring at her, Adam said in a slightly quieter tone, “How long will it take you to get dressed? In other words, what time can we leave?”

  “I’m not leaving, Adam, and I have told you that several times in the last few days. The Ingham tradition is that we mourn our dead for a week after the funeral. The immediate family, that is.”

  “Do you want me to stay, then?” he asked, his manner demanding.

  “No, I don’t. You can’t anyway. You’re not family.”

  “Not family!” he shouted, losing his control. “I am your fiancé! We are engaged. I am family.”

  “I’m afraid not. You will be when we are married, but not until then. That’s just the way it is around here. Lots of rules and regulations, dating back hundreds of years. We still live by them.” Alicia held herself very still.

  He did not respond. He just stood there glaring at her, and she recognized that he was fuming inside. He had quite a temper, if provoked, and a lot of things seemed to do that lately. She stepped back, drew closer to the fireplace.

  Adopting a soothing tone and a calmer manner, Alicia said, “I will be back in London next week, and we can spend the weekend together at your lovely flat in Bryanston Square. Just the two of us.” She smiled and added, “You’ll enjoy that, won’t you?”

  Adam heard Jack Trotter’s voice at the back of his head. Calm it, lad. You don’t catch flies with vinegar. He wished that buzzing in a corner of his mind would go away. He tried to take control of himself, but his anger burst through. “I need you in London with me. Tonight! And you knew that. I am seeing the new backer, Terrence Vane, and he’s expecting to meet you. Get dressed at once, we must be going.”

  Adam sounded so furious she took another step back. Alicia was staring at his face. It was bright red with his fury, and those translucent eyes she liked so much were as cold as gray ice. Hard, unforgiving.

  She was suddenly afraid of him, drew closer to the hearth, and knocked over the stand holding the poker and tongs. They made a clattering sound as they fell.

  The noise seemed to break Adam’s angry attitude. He shook his head, smiled at her, walked over to her, and touched her arm lightly.

  “I’m so sorry, Alicia,” he said in a warm tone, looking contrite. He shook his head once more. “I didn’t mean to speak to you so rudely, so loudly. I’m afraid I’m somewhat charged up about Terrence Vane wanting to back Revenge. And he really was excited about meeting you tonight. Never mind. I’m sure he’ll understand about poor Aunt Charlotte, and that you are currently in mourning.”

  “I think he will,” she said lightly, endeavoring to be nice, yet wishing he would leave.

  Adam stepped forward, put his arms around her and held her close. Then he kissed her on the mouth.

  A shiver went through Alicia, and she gently extricated herself as soon as she could. “Make a date with Terrence Vane for next Friday, and I will be there,” she promised him.

  “That’s my good girl,” he said, beaming at her.

  No, not your girl at all, she thought. Not anymore. Alicia said, “Why don’t we take him to Siegi’s Club. I’m a member, you know.”

  * * *

  Alicia’s bedroom overlooked the front entrance of Cavendon Hall, and she went over to the window and, parting the curtains, looked out. She saw Adam’s chauffeur-driven car disappearing down the driveway and was filled with relief.

  After picking up the poker and tongs and uprighting the stand on the hearth, she returned to the chair and sank into it gratefully. Her enormous relief that he had gone did not surprise her at all. His behavior had troubled her for some weeks, and his presence in her family home for the past six days had been unbearable at times.

  He had overstepped the mark on various occasions, been overfamiliar with some members of her family, and behaved in a way that alarmed her sometimes. Furthermore, his possessiveness of her was suffocating, his jealousy unwarranted, and his erratic behavior both troublesome and unnerving. And then there were his outbursts of temper.

  A shiver ran through her as she thought of his rant only fifteen minutes ago. She had actually been frightened of him. For the first time, admittedly, but nonetheless fear had flared in her, made her step away from him, put distance between them.

  Her mind went back to his arrival last Friday. He had been all kindness and charm, got on well with those at tea, and later at dinner. They were accepting of him, friendly.

  Deep down, she knew that her aunt Lady Diedre did not like him at all. Not that her aunt displayed her dislike, she was far too well mannered. But instinctively Alicia had known that Diedre was not a fan of Adam Fennell.

  That night they had made love, and he had been as passionate and sensual as usual, and she had responded to him. But the f
ollowing day she admitted to herself that her sexual desire for him was on the wane.

  She examined this now, wondering how she could have gone from sky-high sexual yearning and wanting him all the time, to this unexpected lessening of her need. Was it the beginning of indifference? Was it because he was irritating and erratic? Had those traits diluted his sensuous charms?

  Quite suddenly Alicia saw him as he had been a short while ago—his face bright red with fury, his translucent gray eyes as cold as ice and hard.

  It struck her that he was not who he appeared to be. The charm was a front which disguised a difficult, troubled, and complicated man, and, very simply, they were not temperamentally suited for each other.

  Adam Fennell was not right for her. She saw that very clearly now with objective eyes. Looking back to the week she had started the film, last September, she remembered that she had been emotionally fragile because of her split with Bryan Mellor.

  Obviously, Adam had spotted this and homed in on her with his kindness, his small gifts, his caring, and his obvious admiration for her.

  Their sexual attraction for each other was real, almost overwhelming, and had developed with speed and genuine need. She had to admit she had been his willing partner in their wild, passionate, and fulfilling lovemaking in his bed.

  A deep sigh escaped her. Then she pushed herself to her feet, went into her bathroom to get ready for the day. And she wondered how to break off with him and discovered she had no idea.

  * * *

  Just before lunch, Alicia went into the blue-and-white sitting room and was happy to see Cecily was already there with her mother, Alice Swann.

  Hurrying forward, she greeted them both affectionately and sat down on the sofa next to Alice, took hold of her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Mrs. Alice,” she said to the woman she had been named for. “It’s comforting to be with family in sad times.”

  “Indeed it is, Alicia. It’s always those who are left behind to grieve who suffer the most, and having family for support is so important,” Alice answered, patting her hand.